Angel Carter
by athenasdragon
Summary: New York, 1947. The war is over, and so is The War. One angel clashes with her superiors and one demon is a surprisingly good friend. Angels and demons au, Angel!Peggy and Demon!Jarvis, heavily influenced by Good Omens.


_**A/N:** Creation exchange with sammisart on Tumblr. Seriously, go check out her amazing illustration of this story, it's worth it._

 _This is heavily influenced by Good Omens (credit Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman)._

* * *

In a small all-night diner, a man and a woman sat back-to-back in mint green booths.

The woman drank daintily from a cup of coffee. If her skirt and jacket were slightly rumpled, her perfect posture made up for the fact. The man's charcoal grey suit, by contrast, was the embodiment of perfection, but he slouched a little as he stirred his tea.

"Difficult day at the office, Miss Carter?"

Carter smiled, lipstick-bright. A careful observer might notice that everything about her was slightly radiant. Fortunately, none of the tired laborers slumped over the bar were what could be called careful observers. "Mmm, but rewarding."

The man smiled too. His smirk was mischievous, though not unkind. "Are Sousa and Thompson still giving you trouble?"

"You know I don't like to speak ill of my coworkers, Mr. Jarvis."

"I never heard such a lie. I thought you were forbidden from telling tales!"

Carter sighed and took a long drink. "You know they disapprove of this form. They think humans won't take me seriously if I manifest as a woman."

Her companion—Jarvis—shrugged, though ostensibly neither could see the other. "We've all been there. They'll get over it." He cupped his tea in his hands as though to let them absorb the warmth. Little did the smiling waitress who slid a muffin onto his table realize that, in fact, it was the palms of his hands reheating the tepid drink. "Besides, don't humans look to women for love and emotional guidance? I'd think you could make a strong case for that form."

The two sat in silence for a while. Carter pretended not to think over Jarvis's point. Tinny gramophone music, dulled by its progress through the floor, oozed down from upstairs. The moon reflected a shimmering white disc in Carter's coffee.

"And you?" Carter finally inquired.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your 'day at the office,' as you so flippantly put it. Did you manage to damn anyone I should know about?"

Jarvis chuckled. "I'm afraid I'm still rather focused on that pet project I described at our last meeting."

"Howard Stark? Surely the man's been corrupted by now."

"I didn't expect it to take this long," he admitted. "Especially with the amount of time he spends in my company each day. But he has a surprisingly strong moral core. There are things even he won't do—yet."

"There is much love in him."

Jarvis snorted. "Yes, so much love he can't possibly keep it to one woman. However, without actually meddling about inside the man's head, there's nothing I can do to speed his corruption." He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowed, but still did not quite look at the being behind him. "You haven't been opposing my influence, have you?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good."

"Oh, dear. Here comes Angie." Carter shrank down into her seat as the blonde approached the café.

Jarvis checked his watch as he spoke. "I really don't know why you agreed to train angels on the side. A Virtue such as yourself must have better things to do, especially with The War."

When these two referred to The War, the capital letters suggested themselves naturally. They knew, you see, of the underlying cosmic conflict behind the terror that had ravaged the world for the first part of the decade: an Apocalypse, narrowly-averted.

"The War is over," Carter bit out. "Stephiel sacrificed himself to end it."

"Yes, we all know how your brave Power defeated War." Jarvis softened his voice. "Come on, let's go somewhere else. You don't have to talk to the Angel tonight."

* * *

"They seem to forget that I'm a Virtue," Carter slurred bitterly, and muttered something about "Powers and Archangels getting uppity."

Jarvis poured a stiff measure of brandy into her glass—they had been drinking all night, yet the bottle was still full. "Indeed. You've earned your place among them."

"They think my love makes me weak, and that my form reflects that. But I fought! I fought alongside them! I fought alongside them and we won. We—we won."

"That you did. If your own side respects you less than a demon does, you know you have a problem."

"Ah, but you're not exactly a typical demon. And more and more I think that I'm an angel in name only. I lie, I resent…"

"And you work day and night to save every soul you can."

Carter shrugged and sobered up. "It doesn't feel like I'm making a difference."

"I can assure you it does. I'm the one who has to report back whenever you thwart me."

Before she could respond, a bang in the alley outside Carter's small apartment brought them both to attention. They were on their feet in seconds, prepared to investigate. The downside of being friends with someone from the _other side_ was that there was always a risk of being discovered by your superiors.

A man cowered against the brick wall of the building opposite. Before him, brandishing what appeared to be a kitchen knife, was a lean, scowling woman. Jarvis nudged Carter with his sharp elbow. His eyes glowed slightly yellow in the grimy darkness. "Your turn."

Smirking, Carter drew herself up to her full height—and kept going until she was nearly nine feet tall. "That's a lie, but I'll take what I can get." Brilliant white wings erupted from her back and illuminated the alley with a fiery light.

The mugger spun in surprise only to shield her eyes from the glow. "What—who's there?"

"What are you doing, child?" Carter asked. The words were layered with millennia of knowledge and hundreds of voices, yet somehow soft.

The knife clattered to the pavement as the woman let out a sob. "I'm so hungry."

"The worthy will be rewarded," Carter intoned. The man she had saved was long gone now that his assailant was distracted. "Justice in due time. You can never go back after taking a life."

"Take my word on that," a smooth, masculine voice hissed from the shadows.

The mugger nodded, tears streaming down her face and eyes shut tight against Carter's holy radiance. "I won't. I will be true."

* * *

Hours later, Carter and Jarvis walked slowly through the streets of New York. Light from the rising sun gleamed off of every surface. It almost reminded Carter of her home.

"I assume you looked into that woman's future," Jarvis finally said.

Carter was silent.

"She will starve to death on the streets in a few days' time, still waiting for the justice promised her." The demon looked sideways at his companion. "Was the purity of her immortal soul really worth her mortal existence?"

"My superiors think so, and that's good enough for me." Carter lengthened her stride.

"Ah, but you would disagree."

"I fought alongside humans for five years. I've seen them at their best and worst, and I began to understand an emotion called 'desperation'. I don't know what to think."

"War does things to people."

"Indeed."

They reached a crossroads. Carter angled her body left, but hesitated. Jarvis noticed and tapped his watch. "Ten o'clock at the diner again?"

"I'll see if I can make it." She inclined her head brusquely. "Good day."

Jarvis smirked, exposing slightly-pointed teeth, and said nothing. Instead, he tipped his hat and headed to the nearby subway entrance.

She could always make it.


End file.
